


Three Doors

by micehell



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Drama, M/M, a tiny bit of angst, heaps of schmoop (well maybe not heaps but still)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-16
Updated: 2008-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-12 21:43:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micehell/pseuds/micehell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Obi-Wan breathed in and said, "Yes."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Doors

**Author's Note:**

> Title ~~blatantly stolen~~ gently lifted from a VAST song of the same.

24  
On Flethe they had time to themselves, after the conference and before their liftoff. The sand on Flethan beaches was soft, the waves tinting gold, frothy like champagne. They stayed until their skin was wrinkled, their liftoff was imminent, and the tide was coming in, splashing Obi-Wan's face, making him laugh. Qui-Gon's hands cupped his face, a poor shield against the water, a warm encouragement to hurry, and Obi-Wan laughed again as he tasted salt, soft like the sea, bitter like metal.

18  
"Are you sure, Obi-Wan? Is this... are you sure?"

In five years of being his apprentice, Obi-Wan had never heard his master sound so uncertain. Had never seen him look so close to breaking, his hands shaking, his eyes intent on Obi-Wan, trying to read surety there.

Obi-Wan tried to paint his face in it, flood the bond, anything he could to hide the fact that his own hands were shaking, and that Qui-Gon's height and weight, usually comforting, was anything but. Fear and excitement were like warring factions in his blood; a breath out, and the large hands on his hips, the large cock in his ass, were restraining, painful, a breath in, and they were life's blood, as necessary as the air he struggled to keep.

But he'd wanted and waited, asked and received, and Obi-Wan wasn't going to lose this gift, not to either of their doubts. Shifting his hips beneath those hands, pressing his ass hard up against that cock, Obi-Wan breathed in and said, "Yes."

25  
On Bukist, Obi-Wan had a vision, imperfect and vague. And just a little too late. It was the last thing he saw for the next ten days.

He woke to a strange room, a strange man leaning over him, and nothing familiar nearby. Only the steady thrum of the bond, the proof that something familiar at least still existed, kept him from panicking.

The strange man gave Obi-Wan his name (Knight Runyan), his location (still Bukist), the mission status (ongoing). and the date (just a little too late).

Obi-Wan was done with his physical therapy by the time the mission ended. He was standing on his own when Qui-Gon returned, smiling and familiar, a promise of, "Next year," rumbling from his chest as he held Obi-Wan close.

16  
Obi-Wan couldn't really remember the first time he'd realized his master was attractive. He'd never forget when he realized what he felt was something much more.

They were on Corellia, a purely ceremonial event. They dressed in formal wear, and Obi-Wan was once again torn between admiring Qui-Gon's aplomb, and being sorely tested by it when such ease was well beyond his reach. He was also sorely tested by the ease with which the Minister of Finances spoke to his master. The soft laugh, the light hand on his back as they walked together, the pirate's rogue smile that belied his office.

But Obi-Wan had felt jealousy's sting before, well-used to the attention Qui-Gon drew. What he hadn't felt was the wash of _betrayal_ that came when Qui-Gon smiled back, a quirk of lips that held more than a touch of the rogue itself. And the even deeper cut that followed the next day, when Qui-Gon's smile at the Minister turned fond, even intimate, an aura of pleasure about him that seemed to confirm the persistent rumors about Corellian males.

Obi-Wan would have liked to believe he handled it well, but he knew what he actually did was sulk. Had been obvious enough in it that it drew Qui-Gon's attention, a day of long speeches broken intermittently by sideways looks full of warning, concern, and confusion, as Qui-Gon tried to understand Obi-Wan's seemingly random mood.

It wasn't the fact that he was disappointing his master that had brought him out of it. It was how that aura of pleasure dimmed every time he looked at Obi-Wan, that rare selfish happiness being lost to Obi-Wan's pique. It hurt more than his own disappointment that it wasn't _Obi-Wan_ who'd caused the pleasure in the first place.

He schooled his face to polite regard, as it should have been, tamped down the ache in his heart, letting Qui-Gon's pleasure remain unbroken.

When they left Corellia, Obi-Wan knew two things. One was that it wasn't just a phase, and certainly not just a crush. And the second, the one that made Qui-Gon's wistful smile at the Minister bearable, was that he knew (like he'd known he was going to be a knight, like he'd known Qui-Gon was his master) that one day that smile would be only for him.

62 (or 26) (or no time at all)  
At the ticklish sensation of Qui-Gon's beard whispering down his ribs, across his chest, Obi-Wan giggled, though he would deny it until the very end of time. He was too breathless to deny the gasp he made when the whisper turned harder, a tiny pressure, a greater friction, across hard nipples already swollen from Qui-Gon's lips.

He couldn't even think to deny the moan as Qui-Gon's large hands gripped his waist, as that large cock pushed slowly in, all reason lost to sensation. And a touch of memory, as that first time ( _Is this... are you sure?_ ), and that last time ( _Next year_ ), and all the times in between ( _soft like the sea, bitter like metal_ ) merged together, and Obi-Wan breathed in and said ( _Yes_ ) as Qui-Gon smiled only for him.

/story


End file.
